


get home

by imaginarybarista



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Christmas fic, Domestic, M/M, holiday au, snuggly!louis, sweet and snuggly sums it all up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:25:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginarybarista/pseuds/imaginarybarista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis lights a fire and is waiting on the couch with a blanket for Harry to come home. A Christmas tree blocks the balcony view. Stockings are hung! :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	get home

**Author's Note:**

> I've been calling this fic "snuggly couch" in my head. That's about the only thing I can say. {I suck at titles. I was seriously contemplating calling this 'the clock'...} {I like the lyrics "and these are the days that bind you together" from bastille's 'bad blood' but calling a fic bad blood sounds... eh... so I went with another Bastille song}

The wind stings Harry's cheeks as he pulls his jacket tighter around himself. He feet are warm in his favorite boots, and he has on the gloves Lou gave him last Christmas. His hands are doubly protected as they're shoved into his pockets. The shopping bags he carries are threaded over his arm, and they bump into his hips as he walks, but at least he doesn't have to hold them with cold fingers.

 

He's one of the few who have braved the winter weather today and come outside without the protection of a warm heated car. He thought that the soft cashmere scarf he had on and its matching hat would keep him warmer, but Harry is beginning to believe that he can't feel his nose or lips as the wind seems to scrape his face.

 

Harry just wants to get home to Lou. He's been out all day-- he left the flat right after breakfast and met up with Syd. Then he'd gotten together with Liam for lunch, before shopping with Gem for some Christmas gifts.

 

It's nearing seven now, and Harry wonders if Louis cooked anything. He'd snagged a pretzel inside the mall but he could go for a nice glass of wine.

 

He uses his key to unlock the street level door of their building, then climbs the stairs to their second story flat. It's quite nice for an apartment- it's only got one bedroom, but it's got a spacious living room and a little balcony.

 

It's home. It's the kitchen that Louis cooked him dinner in for the first time. It's the walls that are decorated with pieces picked up on weekend dates and photos of he and Louis on a beach, at a ski resort, in a pub, in tuxedos. A very boring looking clock hangs in the foyer.

 

(The clock looks boring but Harry could never part with it. The story behind it is melt-worthy: Louis had taken him to Ikea. They were supposed to be shopping for a lamp, settling into a domestic routine. Then Louis had pecked him on the cheek and murmured that he'd "be right back," he was "just going to grab them some cinnamon buns." Then he'd proceeded to shove a crinkled piece of paper in Harry's hands before darting away, leaving Harry to smile ruefully. Louis and his unpredictableness, his impish grin and his laughter and his sweet tooth... added up to reminders for Harry of why he loved Louis. He'd folded open the paper and followed the instructions to the stupidly boring wall clock, where (as delighted employees and slightly confused customers watched), Louis asked Harry to reach a particular clock off the wall. Harry had tried to protest that they couldn't take the one off the wall, they had to get one in a box, but Louis had said "For the love of-- Harold, just please get the clock?" in a frustrated voice and Harry had complied. On the back of the clock a note was taped: I think it's time: will you marry me? That boring black clock on the wall represents a major part of Harry's life.)

 

When Harry unlocks the familiar red door at the top of the stairs, he smells something good. He drops his bags and shuffles out of his boots and coat before doing a speedy little jig into the living room. "Lou, it's absolutely freezing out there," he says while clasping his hands together, still gloved.

 

Louis looks up from where he's on the couch. A thick red plaid blanket covers everything but his nose up. Two little hands reach up and pull it down. "Snuggle with me," he demands in a soft voice. He takes in Harry’s flushed cheeks, and the lock of hair that’s sprung out from under his hat and doesn’t try to hide his fond smile.

 

Louis looks warm and Harry feels something like static electricity that makes him feel both a pull towards his boy and a little electric zap to his heart.

 

Louis's hands come out from the blanket and he opens and closes his fists a few times like he wants to grab Harry but also not leave his blanket nest.

 

Harry tugs his hat off, damp with snow, followed by his scarf and gloves. He's smiling hugely now, the cold chill leaving his body as he warms up just from being in Louis's presence and their familiar flat. They’ve got two stockings hanging off the mantle and a short Christmas tree crammed into the corner. Neither had wanted a table tree, settling for a small artificial one that fit in front of the balcony doors.

 

Louis squeals and shrinks back as Harry burrows under the blanket and tucks in next to Louis, pressing close, his head on Louis's shoulder.

 

"Fuck, you're cold!"

 

"Well, warm me up, buttercup." Harry teases and noses Louis's cheek. Louis whines a little because it feels like an icicle is is poking him in the cheek.

 

"Fine." He sighs as his hands come up to thread through Harry's hair. He pretends to be disgruntled but he pulls Harry tighter to him, letting his husband's head fall against his chest.

 

He cards his fingers through the waves and Harry sighs, a long echoey breath that lets Louis know that Harry's relaxing against him. He's sprawled out over Lou’s lap with his eyes shut, and Louis has one arm looped around Harry in front of him. Louis bends down to press little kisses by Harry's ear. "Did you have a good day out?"

 

"Mm, yeah..." Harry murmurs. His face is still pressed into Louis's sweater. "Lee and Gem say hi."

 

"Hullo, Liam and Gemma," Louis says dutifully.

 

Harry giggles.

 

"I've got chicken in the oven."

 

"You're my favorite." Harry's voice is muffled.

 

"And I even put on a fire."

 

Harry moves his head to look at the fireplace and sure enough a hot orange glow is present. "I love you."

 

“You better.” Louis presses another kiss behind Harry's ear. He's always thought there was something comforting about the way Harry smells. It's familiar, the smell of his shampoo and his scalp and just the scent that's unique to him-- it lingers on his clothes and his pillow and when he's stretched out and lazing, pressed into Louis, everything feels sleepy and slow.

 

They sit together for a few minutes, Louis gently massaging his fingers through Harry's hair.

 

" _mine_."

 

Louis can't be sure which one of them said it, because his eyes have started to shut and he and Harry both have begun to nod off. But he tightens his grip around Harry's waist and pulls the blanket tighter around them.

  
Later, while Louis pulls from the oven chicken that's only a little dry, the phone will ring. With two weeks till Christmas, the agency has promised a sweet Christmas gift that has Harry pouring champagne instead of wine with dinner. Louis will drop his spatula and jump up and wrap his arms around Harry's waist. There mouths will crash together and they'll get bubbly on champagne and then make out on the couch under a plaid blanket with the fire burning. Between kisses and sweater tugging and light hair pulling Louis will look into glittering eyes. Harry will deny being teary eyed and then kiss Louis to distract him. Louis will pull back and smirk at him and Harry won't be able to resist adding that they need a third little stocking for above the fire. Then it'll be Louis's turn to kiss Harry as a distraction. And, you know, because he loves him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking I can write more for this, since this was only really a ficlet. (I wrote it in my ipod's Notes and let's just say I'll stick to typing ;) ) Please let me know what you are thinking right now, it makes me as happy as a quadruple rainbow to get feedback :D xox


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